CHAPTER 819: CHAPTER 820

At 10:30 p.m., Rosemary climbed into Horace’s car. The Demon Ring was covertly built; hidden in the husk of an abandoned train station, its entrance was masqueraded by an inconspicuous billboard.

Horace flashed a QR code at the bouncer, a blonde guy with blue eyes who ushered them through the security checkpoint. No weapons were to pass this point.

They were funneled down a dimly lit corridor, flanked by guards with guns at the ready. At the end of the passage, a door opened to the main arena, where there was dripping with a hubbub of voices.

In the center of the circular spectator stands, a giant birdcage-like ring hosted a spectacle - a heavyweight fighter locked in a showdown with a ferocious beast.

"Take it down! Take it down!" The crowd was relentless in their bloodlust.

The beast, clearly hungry and with the advantage of sheer mass, lunged at the fighter, its claws carving deep red gashes across his arm. The roar it emitted was primal, signaling a predator’s resolve to claim its prey.

The audience was in a frenzy, craving the raw, visceral thrill of bloodshed, which was the reason why they came.

Rosemary knew of the existence of these underground fight clubs, but the savagery before her eyes was beyond anything she had imagined. To satisfy the spectators’ morbid appetites, a brutal man versus

beast battle was being staged.

Staircases and guarded elevators provided access to the seating areas. The elevators led to the private rooms above, reserved for the elites.

Horace presented the QR code once more, but this time, the attendant allowed only Rosemary to proceed.

"Wait for me here."

Horace was visibly concerned, but trusting Rosemary’s assertive glance, he nodded, his worry easing just slightly.

As Rosemary ascended to the second floor, the elevator dinged open to a stark contrast of ambiance.

Compared with the tempestuous from below, here was far more quite. Even though one could still hear roars downstairs, the deafening sounds abated.

Stepping out, Rosemary was greeted by an unexpected sight: a woman shed her plush pink coat, revealing nothing but a bikini underneath, and cooed, "Sean."

Her back to Rosemary, the woman showcased her graceful curves and long legs. She sauntered towards a man in the corridor with seductive steps, barely waiting for a response before draping herself around his neck, provocatively rubbing her ample breast against him.

"Quite proactive, aren’t you?" The man had a voice that dripped with charm. In the dim light, Rosemary couldn’t distinguish his face, only hearing him teasingly inquired, "You want to do it?"

"Oh, stop." the woman purred, "Sean, you’re making me blush."

Rosemary had no interest in their identities. Spotting a sign for the higher-numbered rooms to the right,

she realized she’d have to pass this intimate scene.

"Excuse me," the pair were block her path, the man’s bodyguards looming behind him.

The woman didn’t think she was so opposite to be tactful. Wasn’t it obvious she was in the middle of charming Sean? Was this woman blind to demand passage from Sean?

But Sean simply tightened his grip around the woman’s waist, pulling her closer while casting an intrigued gaze at Rosemary as she walked by.

The girl’s features hidden behind a black face mask that only allowed her clear, beautiful eyes to stand out. Her hair was scooped up into a playful bun, and she was dressed in casual attire, a backpack

slung over her shoulder, and a pair of crisp white sneakers on her feet.

"Sean." Perhaps sensing Sean’s gaze lingering on the girl, the woman next to him cooed teasingly, leaning in to press her lips against his.

Steward, with his entourage in tow, hadn’t intended to step aside for Rosemary, but seeing Sean make room, he motioned for his group to part ways.

Rosemary brushed past them and rapped on the door of room 11 before slipping inside.

The woman, eyes closed, moved to seal her kiss with Sean, but in the next instant, she found herself unceremoniously dumped atop a trash can near the elevator.

Being thrown away out of the blue, the woman looked confused and in pain; her expression twisted as she realized she was bleeding from a scrape on her elbow. Raising her eyes, she saw Sean toying with a white pill, a cold smirk playing on his lips.

Feeling for her hair, the woman discovered the white pill, which had somehow ended up in Sean’s possession.

"Trying to drug me?" Sean flicked the pill back at her.

"When did you catch on?" She was shocked by his acuity. Had he noticed when that girl walked by? It seemed impossible; she had been so careful. Could he have detected the scent?

Steward wasted no time, his men securing the woman firmly.

"Did Troy send you?" A derisive smile on Sean’s face as she remained silent, "Guessed that quickly, huh? How dull."

He issued a lazy order to his henchman, "Chop off her hands, send them with the pill to that old geezer."

Troy, a business rival, envied Sean’s growing power and the way his own empire was being devoured by Sean’s ambition.

"You think I’d suffer at your hands?" The woman attempted to lick her thumbnail, coated in a layer of golden powder - a contingency against failure and capture - but Steward intercepted, stuffing a

handkerchief into her mouth before she could act.

She had planned to end her own life swiftly with the poison, but her plan had been thwarted.

"That old fool, not only is he incompetent, but his lackeys are just as pathetic," Sean shrugged off his suit jacket, soiled by the woman’s touch, and tossed it into the trash. He accepted a moist towelette

from one of his men and wiped his hands clean.

Once Sean entered room one, Steward knocked the woman out cold and took her away to carry out the grim task.

Some time later, Steward returned to report, "Mr. Collins, it’s been handled, and the woman sent. Also, there’s a mysterious buyer keen on purchasing one of your islands, offering up to 30 million dollars."

"Which island?" Sean seemed to have forgotten.

"The one we call Weeds Island."

Steward struggled to find the words to describe it. In his mind, the island was overrun with weeds, desolate, save for a sprawling sandy beach and a clear view of the ocean.

"The buyer probably wants a private island, a secluded life away from the world," but in Steward’s opinion, the island was hardly worth 30 million dollars. Sean had acquired it for a mere 2 million dollars

back in the day.

"Mr. Collins, we’d make a good profit at that price."

"Keep him on the hook." Sean had no intention of selling just yet. He swirled the drink in his glass and downed it in one gulp, "What about the guy?"

"The one from this afternoon? His name’s Sam; he’s already downstairs luring Felix out. Word is Felix loves a good brawl. If it’s brutal enough on the stage, he’ll show."